A Masquerade in the Moonlight - By Kasey Michaels Page 0,7
of pain. “You kicked me! Don’t deny it, for it won’t fadge. You kicked me! What did you do that for, gel?” the ungentlemanly gentleman bellowed, hopping about on one foot as he attempted to rub at his shin. “That bloody well hurt!”
“For which you should be unendingly grateful, sir!” Thomas heard the young lady in question reply with some heat, so that he noticed her for the first time—which instantly caused him to curse himself for a blind blockhead for not having espied the beautiful, fiery-haired creature before this moment. “If I had not hurt you I should be obliged to have at you again. You’ve torn my flounce with one of those clumsy great feet of yours. If you treat your horseflesh as cowhandedly as you do your dancing partners, I am surprised you haven’t been trampled by one of the poor beasts long since.”
The young woman’s former dancing partner, now showing all the signs of a man who would dearly love to cuff her on the ear but knew he could do no such thing and still be considered a gentleman, blustered a time or two before turning on his heels and limping away, leaving her quite deserted on the edge of the vast dance floor.
Thomas watched in open amusement as the young woman—hardly more than a girl, actually—jammed her fists onto her hips, glaring at the man’s departing back. “That’s it—run back to your mama. Perhaps she’ll feed you a sweet,” she declared vehemently, if quietly, so that Thomas supposed she hadn’t yet realized she’d been placed in the position of having to navigate her way back to her own mama by herself.
Now here, Thomas thought as he swiftly tossed off the remainder of his wine and discreetly pitched the empty glass into a nearby pot holding a large, wilting palm, was an opportunity no gentleman of initiative could pass by without hating himself in the morning.
Pushing away from the pillar, his eyes roaming the length of Miss Opportunity’s demurely clad body and finding himself well satisfied by what he saw—and even more pleased with what he imagined but could not see—Thomas approached, bowing as he said, “How unremittingly rude of that fellow, abandoning you this way.” Straightening, he smiled at her from beneath his mustache. Oh, yes, this was a most delectable morsel. “And you’ve been abandoned, fair lady, never doubt it. My name is Donovan—Thomas Joseph Donovan, to be precise about the thing—and I could not help but notice your plight. May I possibly be of some service?”
“Possibly.” She coolly returned his assessing look, not seeming in the least discomfited by either his laughing blue eyes or his preemptive introduction, so that he quickly amended his assessment of the young lady to include at least a modicum of brains along with her considerable beauty. “Do you dance, Thomas Joseph Donovan?” she asked, smiling up at him, displaying a most enticing dimple just to the right of her full pink mouth.
No milk and water puss, she! Englishwoman or not, Thomas decided, there had to be at least one enterprising Irishman hanging from the shady side of her family tree. He could love this cheeky miss—for at least a fortnight, which was a full week longer than Thomas Joseph Donovan’s loves usually lasted. He grinned in spite of himself, and the brogue he’d long ago lost but never really abandoned leapt to the fore as he deliberately set out to charm her. “Aye, and that I do, miss. Would it be asking me to partner you that you’d be?”
“What do you think, Mister Donovan?” she countered, tilting up her faintly belligerent, eminently adorable chin. “My chaperone is at the other side of this ballroom, which is almost to say she is in far-off China, and I cannot face the thought of attempting to thread my way through this throng without a companion. Enough gossip tags along after me as it is. You did offer your assistance, I believe?”
“That I did, aingeal girl.”
“Oh please, sir, don’t spoil your kind offer by becoming impertinent. I once had an Irish nanny, you see, and I know you are not to address me so familiarly, even when using the brogue. An angel, indeed! I have already been forced to rout one importuning creature this evening, and it would fatigue me to have to repeat myself. No, sir, what I require necessitates a gentleman’s cooperation. I assure you, it will add greatly to your consequence to be seen with me, for